Not Just Fairy Tales
by LadyNyxRavus
Summary: The man's eyes widen and he brings a hand to his face and Harry gets the feeling that perhaps he isn't supposed to be seeing that fur. Although that makes no sense because it's RIGHT THERE.
1. Once Upon a Time

**AN: I had this awesome idea that wouldn't let go _ages_ ago when I first started watching Grimm. Obviously, Harry Potter is my go-to for crossovers because Harry is so easily maleable as a character, and then I kept reading fanfiction for Grimm and descriptions of Nick's eyes and just...they're both black hair and pretty-eyed. Then of course Petunia is unfavourably described and I couldn't get it out of my head that there are plenty of mythological women with two completely different descriptions which could be used to describe two completely different reactions to magic. Thus, this was born.**

**I can't be sure how far I'll take this, but I'm having fun with it for now between bouts of writer's block and it helps with some unruly parts of my other work. **

**Also, I'm going to be away for a week as of the 17th and I probably won't have any of my stuff with me, though I will have internet access. I'm going to Seattle to visit with a friend and it will be awesome and fun and time-consuming. **

**Standard disclaimers apply. Grimm and Harry Potter belong to their respective owners; I just play with them. **

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**Chapter #1**

For as long as Harry can remember, his definition of "people" has been different than the rest of the world. He has a part-bird Aunt, to begin, and the nurse at school is a pretty tiny little woman with pointed ears and soft moss and ivy for hair. Then there's the Polkiss family who all look vaguely like rats with beady black eyes and whiskered faces (though the mother most of all). On one of the few occasions Harry has gone to London proper, he saw a woman who looked sort of like a bee, a woman with a gaunt face and a jaw that hung sort of off-centre and crooked, and a very nice little girl with ears like a rabbit's and a twitching little nose who offered him a piece of yellow bell-pepper from her plastic snack-bag before her mum called her back over.

He'd also met a man with a voice that was low and smooth and deep who made him promise not to tell anyone about their meeting. He hadn't minded agreeing especially as the man made Harry feel like he should've stayed with his Aunt. Nothing _bad_ had happened but the man gave him a silver coin that he keeps tucked in his pockets or in his cupboard at all times. _So I remember to let you go again_, the man had said, and Harry had told him he could go whenever he **_wanted_**_, thank you very much_. The man had blinked slowly and then laughed and helped him back to the street and his Aunt with her bleeding eyes.

He'd asked his Aunt about it once – seeing the strange people – a long time ago, but her feathers had risen all up and down her head and arms and her red eyes had glared at him harshly. "You can't tell anyone about the things you see, Harry," she said. It was the use of his name that really makes him remember; his Aunt doesn't often call him by name. "If you see one of them – the ones who don't look like the children at school – then you must tell me right away."

"Alright," he had said but ventured, "Piers looks like a rat."

"Don't worry about Piers or the other Polkisses," she says primly and her feathers slowly smooth out into their usual tidy but ratted state. "They are none of our concern."

"Alright," he'd agreed but he hadn't told her just the same. There were so many and not all of them were really noticeable so he wasn't sure if they just looked funny or if they were actually the sort she wanted to know about.

When Vernon and Dudley go away for the weekend (hunting with Dudley's grandfather), Harry is left behind. He doesn't mind spending time with his Aunt, but she tends to spend most of her free days scrubbing the house within an inch of its life and that's actually very boring. He peers at her from his place on the couch and wonders, not for the first time, why she looks so different from his other relatives.

He asks her. She tilts her head so that one of her wide-set eyes can see him. "It runs in my family – not Vernon's."

"My mother looked like you?" the words are out before he can stop them and he huddles down from what is sure to be a right tongue-lashing.

Instead he peeks out and Aunt Petunia is worrying at one of the longer feathers near her wrist and her ruby eyes are shining with darker red blood. "No. Your mother looked more human. She had some red feathers in her hair, I remember, and a few small ones on her shoulder-blades. No horrid vestigial _beak_ either." She touches at her own, which is formed around her mouth and stretches outward just a little – sort of like a puffin.

"Oh," Harry says and carefully edges his way back into a sitting position. He has only heard his mother described briefly and this is perhaps the longest one yet. "I like your feathers," he tries but he knows it doesn't sound right and winces. His Aunt gives him a withering look and goes back to her mopping in the kitchen.

Harry doesn't mind it when his aunt keeps an arm around him in the taxi into London. Her longer feathers on her forearm brush against his side and they're surprisingly soft for their sharp-edged appearance. She's stiff and glares disapprovingly at everyone they drive past and only relaxes marginally once they're out on the street.

"Remember, you have to _tell me_," she reminds him. Her eyes aren't shining with blood anymore but they're the same dark-red and some of the thin-snake like tendrils in her pale blonde hair are shifting and writhing anxiously.

"I will," he promises and peers past her to grin at the rabbit-girl who lives with her mother above the little grocers nearby. He always sees her when they go to London because his aunt always picks the same spots.

His Aunt looks and makes a low noise of derision. "_They_ don't count."

"I was going to tell you," he says but he doesn't mean it. She knows it too and rolls her eyes before walking off and expecting him to follow. He follows at a distance because he can _always_ find his Aunt in a crowd and because she's _always_ aware of him. They don't need to be close and she doesn't like to admit that he's her nephew anyway.

So, when Harry spots the man who looks like a bear, he's not at all surprised. London always has visitors and there's usually a new person with new features to see. He does admit that he hasn't ever seen one of the big ones though.

It occurs belatedly – when the man is turning and his big black nose stretches outward and flares as his eyes settle on Harry leaning against the side of a shop – that perhaps he should tell his Aunt about _this_ one. But by then the man has made his way over and is kneeling in front of Harry with a careful sort of look on his face.

"Hello," he says. "Are you lost?"

Harry wants to answer, really he does, but he's never seen a bear person before. He traces with his eyes the round ears and the heavy fur all over the man's face. His fingers itch to inspect what it feels like compared to Aunt Petunia's feathers and the moving tendrils in her hair. The man's eyes widen and he brings a hand to his face and Harry gets the feeling that perhaps he isn't _supposed_ to be seeing that fur.

Although that makes no _sense_ because it's _right there_.

"Harry?" His Aunt's voice snaps his attention sideways and her eyes are dripping blood into the feathers at her collarbone and her manicured nails are black talons curved wickedly that still don't prick him when she grabs his shoulder and pulls him back and away. "Who's your new friend?" she asks in a low hiss that he thinks sounds far angrier than any noise she's ever made at him – even when he burns breakfast on important days.

"I was going to tell," he says instead because it _should_ be said. He was going to tell. Eventually. "I _was_."

"A fury," the man says while straightening, and his ears are sort of pinned back and his eyes are darker and bigger than Harry remembers. "What are you planning on doing to him?"

"Nothing," Aunt Petunia snaps. "He's _my_ nephew."

The man recoils a little. "Yours? He's a…"

"I know," she interrupts and her feathers are starting to sharpen and Harry carefully reaches up and brushes them away before they get bloody enough to cut him. She doesn't glance down but she does move her arm. "Mine nonetheless."

The man stares and then looks down at Harry. Harry looks up at him and smiles a little but he can't help feeling disappointed that he's about to be dragged away _again_. Like always. His Aunt doesn't like him in her house and only touches him to appease other people or keep him away from the people like her with the odd features.

"Is there someplace we could talk?" the man asks. His Aunt is tense and Harry worries that the blood in her feathers might start to drip for real and so he tugs on her jacket. She blinks and the bleeding stops and the feathers slowly absorb the dripping bits as she resumes her usual state. "I have a proposition that might…interest you."

"Fine. There's a park in Surrey near Magnolia Crescent. It's in my territory."

"That's alright," he says and pulls out an expensive phone he types something into. "Around five?"

"That would be acceptable," she says and tucks Harry under her feathers again. He suffers this in silence because she's in one of her _moods_ and it's easier to just let her do as she wants.

Also, he gets to meet the bear man again later and that sounds much more fun than sitting around at home trying not to ruin his Aunt's nesting.

**end chapter.**


	2. There Lived a Grimm with a Fury

**AN: I've seen the Rabe's last name spelt "Rabe" and "Rabbe." In this fic, I've decided to follow the wiki's example and go with a single 'b' instead of the double. You're getting a second chapter because I felt that leaving up just the one from mostly Harry's perspective is giving prospective readers the idea that I'm only going to focus on that side when the majority of the story is actually going to be Grimm-centric. So, here we go!**

**Reviews are much appreciated - even if it's just to say "good job!" or something like that. Construct criticism is also useful even if I may not decide to hede it depending on what we're criticising. **

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**Chapter #2**

Frank Rabe hadn't intended on finding a young Grimm when he went to London. He was just there for business – honestly – but apparently finding the world's worst Grimm in Portland meant he was going to run into a hell of a lot of weird things. Things like a young Grimm on his doorstep with tickets to a concert at a local music academy that led to the fostering of a young Reinegen in his house.

Which is fine because Roddy and Barry get along surprisingly well and Frank likes having the extra body in the house. It made it feel more like a proper home – a feeling sorely missed after the fiasco with the Colbert boys, his now-imprisoned wife, and the two humans. He doesn't think it would have worked if it weren't the Grimm who'd asked for it. He's not sure, but there's something about a lithe little Grimm begging him to break the usual predator-prey relationship and honestly being confused when Frank didn't immediately agree it was a great idea, that makes it hard to say no to the man.

But a young Grimm he had most definitely found, leaning outside of a small shop and peering out at the crowds. He looked sort of lost and Frank is man enough to admit that his Jägerbar parenting instincts aren't the only driving force behind his desire to help the little one.

Then the Fury emerged and she was bleeding bloody tears and had her talons out and curling as she pulled the little Grimm away. The Fury is the Grimm's _aunt_ which is beyond strange and into ridiculous but Frank arranges for the meeting anyway because it's a Grimm and he knows of only one other who would like desperately to know about more of his family.

That the bright green eyes and careful posture scream neglect even as Frank's instincts scream _weak prey_ doesn't help much either.

So he's sitting on a bench in a park somewhere in Surrey when the Fury approaches with the little Grimm. "Wait over there," she tells him and he goes to play on the swings where he none-too-discreetly watches them with avid interest.

She doesn't speak and her eyes aren't bleeding but her feathers look ragged and sharp and he doesn't need to feel them to know they're knives rustling and waiting to be used. He carefully keeps his human guise under control to mollify her but she doesn't relent – she stands her ground and stares at him expectantly with arms loosely hanging at her sides.

"I know a Grimm," he begins because – really – where else should he start? "He lives in Portland – the nephew of Marie Kessler."

"_Her_!" The Fury spits and the whip-thin tendrils in her hair snake angrily. Apparently the woman's reputation spreads beyond America. He isn't sure that's a good thing. "You know her nephew?"

"He's a good one," he tries and holds his hands palm up. "He could have killed my wife – she was trying to kill some humans – but he didn't. He had her arrested and tried fairly in actual human court."

"Your point?" She looks more willing to listen now but her feathers are still knife-edged and they rattle.

He doesn't have a real point. He just knows that she clearly doesn't want the little Grimm in her care (although she'll obviously defend him fiercely) and that Nick Burkhardt wants desperately to know more about his family. He knows that his giant home is empty and cold although Barry tries his best and even gets along with the musical genius they've adopted as one of their own even though he's a Reinegen of all things. He takes a deep breath and looks at the boy. The little Grimm's wide green eyes are fixed on his Aunt and the stranger she's talking to and he doesn't look afraid in the slightest.

"I've fostered a Reinegen boy," he begins. "I'd like to adopt your nephew."

Her eyes widen and she glances over quickly. There's disbelief in her scent and the copper of blood pooling in her eyes. "Adopt him?"

"The Grimm I know is a detective. He's absolutely hopeless and would rather negotiate with every creature he comes across instead of just killing them and being done with it. He…he saved my wife from being found by another. He got my boy off and gave me another to fill the space…" The little Grimm is tilting his head this way and that as though he'll get a glimpse of something interesting. "I'd like to be able to do him a favour in return; I'd like to be able to protect another Grimm so maybe we'd have two on our side."

She gestures at the boy stiffly. "He's my sister's child. You know the story of the Erinyes – the Furies of Ancient Greece?"

"I know enough," he hedges hopefully.

"After the business with Orestes we became the Semnai – the Venerable Ones," she says. "We stopped breeding for brutal efficiency and instead chose grace and elegance. Our line has thinned with human relations but the women still tend to display a number of traits. My _sister_ took after the Semnai. I took after the Erinyes." She clicks her beak and her feathers rattle. "She married a Grimm – a distant cousin, rather – which my genetics could not abide; they kill indiscriminately and sow anger and hatred in their wake.

"My sister was a Semnai; she could give him a chance and she could find the good. I could not. The constant whispers of…" she trails off and looks away. "Well, I couldn't do it. We fell out, I married a human, and I spent the rest of my life avoiding her."

"How did you end up with her child then?"

"She was killed." Her eyes aren't bleeding. They're dry and cold and ruby-red. "The people who were supposed to protect her family dumped her son on my doorstep in the middle of the night and left. They didn't know, of course, and I've had to raise a Grimm. A _Grimm_," she hisses furiously. "The very creature that got her _killed_!"

They don't speak for a while. She eventually composes herself and gestures for the boy to come over. "Harry, you see this man?"

"Ye-_ees_," he says and draws out the word.

"Would you like to live with him?"

The Grimm – _Harry_ – looks up and frowns thoughtfully. "I guess."

"Harry Potter," she says in warning.

"Why am I leaving?" he demands of his aunt. "Is it 'cause I see your feathers?"

"It is _be_cause this man is more capable of looking after you." She doesn't touch him reassuringly. Just stares. "You know that coin you have?"

He gapes. "You aren't supposed to know!"

"You cannot hide things from _me_, boy," she returns archly. "You should not have met that one and you did. Mr. Rabe will protect you."

"He didn't even _do_ anything."

"Nevertheless," she presses an invisible wrinkle smooth on her skirt. "Would you like to live with a bear? There is another person like you – a cousin."

"Like Dudley?"

"Better than Dudley," she says and sounds annoyed at herself. "Will you?"

"Alright," he agrees and looks over. "I've never seen a bear before."

Frank wants to tug the little boy close and properly acquaint himself with his scent so he'll never lose him and no one will ever even _think_ of touching him (especially not something that has a Fury worried). He wants to feed the boy and get him clothes that don't hang off of bony limbs and make him look absolutely tiny. But he can't yet because there's paperwork to do and so he offers the Fury a business card and arranges to meet with her again the next day at his London offices to put the transfer of guardianship through and begin the process of adoption.

A lot of money goes a long way and Frank has Harry packed and ready to fly back to the States by the end of his scheduled trip. The boy blinks up at his Aunt and very gently touches where the feathers at would be at her collarbone before following Frank docilely. Petunia watches them leave with a human face full of relief and sorrow mingled.

Harry just seems enamoured of the idea of being able to fly.

**end chapter. **


	3. Who Gave Him to a Bear

**AN: For those who are curious, Roddy is living with the Rabes because Frank likes to support the arts, Roddy frankly needs the financial help, and his dad is perfectly willing to let this all happen while he serves weekends in prison for being uncooperative during his stint and for an off-screen drunken incident and while Roddy's school is somewhat unwilling to allow him to remain a student if he "assaulted" other students while living under his father's influence. **

**Also, Nick is damn hard to ignore when he thinks he's being helpful. It's easier on everyone this way. **

**Roddy's background for living-with-the-Rabes may change or be explained better in later chapters; The story above is just what I'm working with in my head currently. **

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**Chapter #3**

Roddy has just gotten used to living with the Jägerbar when Frank Rabe brings home a little boy unannounced. Roddy was just putting his violin back in its case when the massive black car belonging to the Rabe patriarch pulled into the long drive. He peers out the window and tries not to stare incredulously at the little boy Frank lifts gently out of a car-seat before setting him back on the ground.

He watches them all the way to the front door and then rushes to the hallway to stare hard at his foster parent. "Why do you have a child?"

"When mommies and daddies love each other very much…"

"Frank!"

Frank grins and looks a tiny bit sheepish even as he gently guides the dark-haired child forward. "Harry, meet Roddy."

Harry looks up at him with bright green eyes framed in round glasses and he tilts his head curiously. "Oh!" he says in delight and grins broadly.

There's the way his eyes seem to know too much and that screaming instinct that makes the young Reinegen want to run very fast in the opposite direction that gives it away.

Roddy recoils. "_Another_ Grimm?"

"I'm Harry," the boy says with a faint furrow. His voice is light and soft and he sounds British. Of _course_ Frank brings a child home from work. A Grimm too, naturally, because why would Roddy's life be even a tiny bit normal?

"A Grimm is just another word for people who can see us," Frank explains gently and looks beyond into the bulk of the house. "Barry home yet?"

"He's in his room," Roddy's too busy staring now and the response is mostly absent-minded. "Can you see me?" he asks Harry.

The little one hesitates and shrugs a little. He doesn't answer and instead looks curiously at Barry as the other teenager in the house comes at the sound his father's voice.

"Hey dad…Woah, a Grimm?" Barry recovers almost instantly and kneels down with a bright smile. "Hey there little man."

"Hi!" Harry chirps and enthusiastically accepts an offered handshake. He stops suddenly and tugs at Barry's hand – staring with wide eyes. "Your nails are different than Aunt Petunia's," he says.

"I'm not a girl," Barry's lips quirk in amusement.

"No," Harry looks up, annoyance written in his face and scent. "Your _nails_," he stresses, "hers are all straight and curl at the end. Yours are curved and thick, see?" he pulls the hand up and of course it looks like a normal human hand to Roddy and the two Jägerbar.

Then Barry's caught on. He stops smiling and his hand shifts from the human one to a partial transformed one. There's fur almost all over, stretching across his palm and down the back of his hand, his fingers are shorter and the nails thick and black and – like Harry said – slightly curved. "Still the same?"

The boy blinks at them as though they're the insane ones. "Yes."

Frank rumbles and the two boys trade looks over the little Grimm's head. "Someone want to call Detective Burkhardt for us?"

Roddy volunteers to do one better by actually fetching the Detective. He drives over to the man's two-story clapboard and waits fairly impatiently for the Grimm to answer his doorbell. The knowledge that there's a tiny boy – a _Grimm_ – sitting around at the house with a pair of male Jägerbar is not a comforting thought. The boy is still a child and Roddy doesn't want to be held responsible for leaving the kid alone with them in case something goes wrong.

Nick answers the door looking relaxed and only partially annoyed to have his weekend disturbed.

"Frank found a baby Grimm," he says quickly and stands at the edge of the rather large from porch to do so.

Nick blinks at him for a long moment before responding. "Wait, he found a _what?_ Frank Rabe, Frank?"

"No, the other Jägerbar you're on friendly terms with," Roddy snaps. He can smell Blutbad in the house and it makes him anxious because _great_, Nick has Monroe over for some weird give-away-Wesen-secrets session and he's sure to smell the little Grimm on Roddy. "You have to come."

"Alright," he says slowly as he reaches around and grabs his usual leather jacket. Wolf wafts off the garment and Roddy relaxes. Alright, there isn't another predator in the house – Nick's just been visiting again. "A baby?"

He's not in the habit of blushing but he does now. It works its way down his neck and he swallows. "Well, not a _baby_ baby – he's like four?"

Nick gives him a look and he hunches his shoulders defensively. "I'll meet you there then?"

"Yes," Nick says and he goes to get his car while Roddy scurries back to his.

They arrived at almost the same time and Frank's waiting for them on the front drive. He's changed out of his business suit and is wearing a sweater and jeans. He smiles and waves at Nick and the elder Grimm smiles brightly in return. Roddy is reminded that Nick is probably the nicest Grimm in all of existence and that his earlier fear was completely unfounded.

Then they go in the house and the little one turns around and suddenly Roddy feels the horrible urge to turn and run.

"Cousin," Harry says as though he's just found an answer to a question. His eyes are the same green they always were but now the Grimm – the fierce predator that hunts monsters – is staring at Nick darkly. He had been sitting beside Barry on the floor colouring with crayons on great swaths of paper dug out of one of the offices but now he's standing and staring intently. "Hi."

Nick doesn't have his proverbial hackles up but he must feel the change as well. He crouches and meets the boy's stare evenly. "Hi."

"You're going to hurt them?" he asks worriedly.

"No," Nick shakes his head firmly. "Not unless they do something bad. I'm a cop, see?" he offers over his badge and the little boy blinks and everything Grimm goes out of him.

"Wicked!" he exclaims delightedly and hurries over to inspect the badge with fingers and a closer perspective.

The three creatures let out audible sighs of relief and Nick looks up at them with a sort of bewildered look – like he has no idea what they're all sighing about. It occurs to Roddy that he probably doesn't. He sighs again and gives the Grimm a look.

"You didn't feel that?"

"Feel what?"

Great. So Nick's cop side just so happens to respond the way a horrifically bad Grimm incapable of dealing with creatures properly would. Wonderful. Roddy sincerely hopes they can raise this new Grimm with at least half a sense of gravity when it comes to creatures.

**end chapter.**


	4. Who Made Most of the Introductions

**AN: I've kind of glossed over most of the repurcussion for Barry. Suffice to say he spent some time in a juvenile detention centre but was released early on good behaviour and now has to report for counselling sessions and regular appointments with a parole officer. All explained in the chapter, hopefully, and not super important anyway. **

**I'm hoping I still have Harry's voice down correctly. I can imagine him picking up more American terminology but still being mostly British so it's somewhat difficult to decide which words I should be using when. I think I've got it though - someone tell me if I'm off. **

** Anywho, enjoy the new chapter! It's ridiculously fun to write this. Reviews are appreciated and thanks to everyone who offered to help with my portrayal of Portland! I will definitely be contacting some of you later on for ideas on the sort of "standard field-trips" elementary kids go on. **

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**Chapter #4**

Barry isn't the brightest bulb in the box, he knows. He keeps his grades up so he can play on the football team at school but he'll never be able to properly excel at school and he's fine with that. He's got to be careful to hold back in sports too, but he's a pretty decent player as far as the humans are concerned so he still has fun with it.

The little boy his father brings home with the intentions of adopting is a Grimm. It's not the first one they've encountered and he doubts it'll be the last but this one is _adorable_. Barry isn't even afraid that sounds unmanly to say; the kid is just cute. His bright British accent and pretty green eyes and the constantly crooked round glasses with the scruffy hair just scream "look at me! I'm adorable and you should take care of me!"

He's man enough to admit that he misses having other people around his house. The Colberts were practically raised beside him before their parents decided it was in the best interests of all the young Jägerbar to pick up their brood and move elsewhere. Roddy's a great guy to have around – even if he is a Reinegen – because he's got an amazing taste in music and he doesn't cower away from them anymore. He puts up with occasionally being mauled affectionately and being covered in Jägerbar scent even though it sets his instincts on edge.

But this little kid is a Grimm and he screams predator when you meet his gaze for too long and _damn_ if it doesn't feel good to know that Barry doesn't have to hold back too much 'cause the kid can _see_ the differences and reacts accordingly. Predators always know how to react to other predators and this baby Grimm views them as equals and agreeably allows Barry to haul him close and cuddle.

"Barry!" Harry greets cheerfully in the morning from his special booster-seat at the kitchen table. Roddy's helping to cut up the boy's pancakes while his dad sips at his coffee and reads the paper.

He's been with them nearly a month now and already been enrolled in school where he usually remembers to not mention that his adoptive family is comprised of bears and a rat. There's always the occasional problem where he's asked to draw his family or something and he ends up confused and unable to accurately describe Frank or Barry or Roddy because he _sees_ them all the time and honestly doesn't know what their human faces look like. The teachers have been told he has some sort of brain problem that basically means he has trouble recognizing faces – some, not all, but his family's for sure – and that he associates certain characteristics with them rather than actual physical features.

It works well enough and now all his pictures of bears and rats and such that he declares are his family are met with enthusiastic praise.

"Hey kiddo," he grins and reaches out to ruffle the mess of black hair. "Excited to see Cousin Nick's work?"

"Yeah!" The little one grins broadly and reaches up to shoo Barry's hand away from his head. "Right after school, remember?"

"I remember," he assures him. "Dad, you're getting him at eight?"

"Hm?" Frank Rabe blinks at him and then shakes his head a little. "Right, eight o'clock at Nick's house, I remember." He grins at Harry and the boy looks suspicious. "I wouldn't forget!"

"Promise?" Harry asks.

"Promise," Franks smiles and makes a criss-crossing motion over his chest. The boy nods firmly and returns to his conversation with Roddy over pancakes.

Dad takes the youngest addition to the Rabe family to school while Roddy and Barry go their separate ways. Barry spends most of the time at school in class but at lunch he goes to his locker and takes the extra time to dig out the picture of Harry, Roddy and him lounging together on the couch. It's one of many pictures his dad has taken in the past month but it's Barry's favourite. Harry's laughing and lying back against his chest and Roddy's leaning awkwardly against the side of the couch where he's been squished by Barry and Harry.

He sticks it up and grins at the picture. One of the girls from the cheerleading squad stops to coo at the little boy in the photo on her way past him to the gym's changing rooms. "Aww, he's cute!"

"My new brother," he explains proudly. "My dad adopted him."

"What's his name?"

"Harry," he grins again and his watch beeps once. Right, lunch. "Gotta go," he says and heads to the cafeteria. Ever since his mom got taken away, his dad has insisted that they do their utmost to – not suppress – but modernize their instincts. That means he has to make sure to be well-fed at all times so he isn't tempted to get violent instead. The thought of the adorable, defenceless little Grimm in his home makes keeping to the schedule easy. He likes the kid too much to risk anything happening to him.

After school Barry has newly granted permission from his parole officer to stay out later to be able to pick up his brother. He pulls up in his giant truck and goes into the office to sign in to pick up the boy. Harry comes running into the office a few minutes later with his jacket unzipped and his hat practically falling off his head.

"Barry, are we going now?"

"Yup!" he lets the boy barrel into his legs and readjusts his hat while he's there. Harry squirms away but leaves the hat where Barry's put it back in place. His eyes are bright and excited and he smells like crayons and the apples they must've had for a snack. The secretaries all make amused noises and laugh at the scene. "Come on, your cousin is waiting."

Harry consents to having his jacket zipped up but runs anxious circles all the way to the truck where Barry has to lift him up to get into his seat. His dad had gone all-out in making sure every single one of their very expensive cars had a car-seat installed properly. If they could make car-seats for the ATVs, Barry's pretty sure they would each have one too (not that he's been allowed to take Harry on one but whatever).

Harry talks endlessly on the way to the precinct. Barry figures he didn't talk much living with a Fury – they usually hated things like lying or disobedience from people who weren't their own offspring and a small child would learn to adapt pretty quickly. It's like the kid had just bottled it up for so long that now he doesn't pause when he knows he won't be stopped.

"I want to be a cop, like Nick," Harry's telling him as they pull up. "He has a gun!"

Barry laughs. "You don't get to shoot it all the time."

"I know," Harry says reasonably. "But it would be cool anyway. Hey, does Nick have crayons?"

"I'm sure he does," Barry unbuckles his little Grimm and holds out his arms. "Come on kiddo, jump."

Harry does and laughs as Barry swings him around before putting him back on his feet. The Jägerbar is just pleased that Harry likes the rather more physical affection his kind are fond of and he makes sure Harry holds his hand before they make their way through the parking lot. Harry peers around with wide-eyed curiosity and the low thrum of a Grimm hunting (Harry doesn't realize he projects a little when he's particularly devoted to something) buzzes when they get in the door and give their names.

"Nick!" The detective looks up from his desk at the call of his name and grins when the little boy darts over with his backpack flopping against his legs where it's slipped down the whole way. His partner – Barry remembers him – watches with a hint of bewilderment at the scene and keeps an eye on Barry as he approaches at a more sedate pace. "Your work is _huge_."

"You think?" Nick asks and then, over Harry's head, "Hey Barry, off to counselling?"

"Yeah." He has to go at least once a week but preferably three – according to his parole officer. He goes for all three sessions because he doesn't want to jeopardize the official adoption that's still being processed. He likes Harry too much – his instincts like Harry too much – to give him up now. "We're a little early, sorry."

"Don't worry," Nick assures him over Harry's squirming little form as he attempts to take in as much of the bustling precinct as possible. "I've got him."

"Alright," Barry waves and tilts his head at Harry. The Grimm turns and blinks at him slowly before smiling. "See you tonight, little man."

"'Kay," Harry says in a softer tone – abruptly shy now that his brother is leaving. "See you."

Barry ruffles his hair one last time, takes in the gentle hold Nick's got on the boy and the core of steel that's the Grimm line peering out the back of his eyes, and grins as he turns around and leaves the adorable little menace to the detective's capable hands.

**end chapter. **


	5. He Glimpsed a King

**AN: I hadn't realized it was so long between updates. Sorry about that. **

**Because people have asked: I don't have any pairings in mind for this story yet. Harry is just barely 5 years old; why are you lot even _thinking_ about this yet? And before you go making suggestions or voting for a pairing you'd like to see just stop and think. I've been known to enjoy an old/ancient/immortal paired with some young thing every now and again but a FIVE year old with someone at least 25-30 years older? Even if I were to set that up for when Harry's legal the age difference is...well, it's outside my comfort range. If it isn't outside yours...**

**I'll just ask you to look for that sort of thing elsewhere, yes?**

**(For the record, I've been considering aforementioned old/ancient/immortal as something more than the role I've got planned for them.)**

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**Chapter #5**

Nick hears Harry before he sees him. The little boy rockets around the assorted personnel in the building and bee-lines it to his desk where he promptly launches himself into Nick's lap and clambers up to see what he's working on.

He's aware of Hank staring at him incredulously but he can't exactly answer now that Harry's sitting in his lap and exclaiming "Your work is _huge_" in awed tones. The accent hasn't gone away in the month he's been living in Portland and it makes everything he says at least three times more adorable. Nick and Juliette had often had conversations about silly things like which accents were the most attractive but Nick had never really put much stock in what they were saying until he'd heard Harry wheedle things out of Frank and his adopted family with just a soft please and wide-eyes.

"You think?" he asks and grins at the twisting head as Harry attempts to watch everything going on all at once. Barry's walking up and the Jägerbar's eyes are darker than his human ones as he keeps a careful watch on his little brother. "Hey Barry, off to counselling?"

"Yeah. We're a little early, sorry," Barry shrugs a little sheepishly and grins crookedly at Harry's squirming.

"Don't worry," Nick assures him, keeping a gentle hold to stop the other Grimm from getting up and running freely about. "I've got him."

"Alright," Barry waves a little and tilts his head at the little boy. Harry stills abruptly and turns his head to blink slowly at the Jägerbar. "See you tonight, little man."

"'Kay," he says in a shy tone as he stop squirming and sits still. "See you." He watches Barry go and then turns to Nick expectantly.

"I've just got to finish up some work here and then we can go," he says. Harry nods silently and turns to stare at Hank. "This is my partner, Hank."

"Hi," Harry greets, waving a bit with mostly just his fingers before returning to holding onto Nick's jacket tightly.

"Hank," he continues, giving Hank a _play nice_ look over Harry's turned head. "This is my little cousin, Harry. Distant cousin," he adds pointedly, "he was just adopted by Frank Rabe, if you can believe it."

"The weird totem guy whose wife we arrested?" Hank gapes and Harry frowns – looking between them. Hank catches the look and grins awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, nice guy." Harry's expression brightens and Hank visibly relaxes.

"Yes, that guy," Nick says and lets Harry slide down and take the seat beside his desk. "He found out in the adoption process and figured he'd let me know in case I knew the kid."

"I didn't know Nick," Harry announces and he appears to be trying to see into the Captain's office without leaving Nick's desk. "But he's cool. I want to be a cop when I grow up," he adds suddenly, as though he'd forgotten to say it.

"Oh really?" Nick grins at the affronted look Harry gives him. "It'll be a lot of hard work."

"I don't mind," he waves away the concern and continues trying to see into the partially open door of the office. "Who works in there?"

"That's the Captain's office," Hank volunteers and fiddles with a pen while watching the little boy continue his staring with a ponderous expression. "He's our boss."

"Oh, neat." Harry blinks and turns to Nick with a frown. "You're supposed to work. I want to play with crayons. Do you have crayons at your house?"

Nick does have crayons, in fact. He has pretty much the entire children's art section courtesy of a very involved Frank Rabe showing up at his door earlier in the week with boxes of things for Harry to play with whenever Nick is called on to look after the little Grimm or whenever the little Grimm wants to visit his 'cousin.' Roddy had shown up not long after with a smaller box stuffed with cleaning supplies because – while the Rabe household has a cleaning service that takes care of any of the messes a five year old can make every couple days – the Reinegen doesn't want Nick to think they're throwing a small tornedo at him without at least giving him a few basic supplies.

"I have crayons, don't you worry," he assures him with a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. "I even have a seat for you in the car." Frank strikes again.

"Detective Burkhardt?" Captain Renard is smiling a little and Nick has to grin just a little at the way Harry's head swivels to stare. "Who's your young friend?"

"This is Harry, a distant cousin. I'm looking after him tonight." Harry is still staring and not even attempting to say hello. "Harry? Going to say hi to the Captain?"

Harry furrows his brow and blinks slowly. He tilts his head at Nick and then flicks those very green eyes back at the Captain. "Er, hi."

"Hello," Renard smiles and Harry's frown deepens. "What do you think of your cousin then?"

"He's nice," Harry replies. He's still frowning and he keeps shooting questioning looks at Nick. His tiny hand goes to one of his pockets and the clouded expression fades as a smile blooms. "Oh! Can I tell you a secret?" he asks, leaning forward in his seat.

"Certainly," Renard blinks a little and stares bemusedly at the little boy when he gets up and grabs the Captain's hand. "Where are we going?"

"I want to see your office," Harry declares. Nick shrugs helplessly and makes a motion to grab his cousin back but Renard just shakes his head and waves a free hand dismissively. "Okay, Nick?"

"Just be good," he says. Harry rolls his eyes dramatically and goes with Renard to the man's office.

It's a matter of minutes to wrap up his paperwork and by then the Captain has closed his office door and he can see Harry gesturing grandly to the man who has a smile flickering on his lips. Hank looks up as he's grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair.

"Cousin, huh?"

"You're as stunned as I was," he informs his partner. "For the longest time I thought it was just me and my Aunt, you know? Then there's this…" he waves a hand and gives Hank his most beseeching look. His partner wavers and then gives in visibly.

"Yeah alright." Hank's been a close friend for years and he probably understands better than most what family means to Nick who hasn't had much of one. He smiles and Nick shares in the look before his partner realizes how corny they're being and scoffs him away. "Go look after your kid-cousin now, before he drives the Captain crazy. Chatty little monster."

"He's been suspiciously quiet, actually," Nick returns. "Maybe I'll bring him by your place later – let him see how a real cop lives."

"Oh ha!" Hank leans back in his seat to watch Nick walk off. "Just try it Burkhardt!"

Harry is, apparently, extolling the virtues of his new 'brother' who plays the violin. Renard is actually listening which Nick admires immediately because even he admits he'll tune the boy out sometimes (though Harry is usually quick to notice and scold him for it). "He played this song called Bumblebee and it goes like this –" he makes a zig-zagging motion in the air with his hands and hums quickly like a bee but less buzzy.

"That's a difficult song, you know," Renard comments. "Your brother must be very talented."

"Roddy's really good," Harry says simply. "Sometimes he plays for his rat, Dexter, and Dexter dances and –"

"Ready to go?" Nick interrupts quickly. He's not entirely sure the Captain needs to hear about Roddy and his amazing dancing rat. Harry turns and smiles brightly, reaching out to take Nick's offered hand. The Captain quirks a smile and waves them out. Harry picks up the conversation again in the car and Nick is treated to an in-depth description of every song whose name Harry can remember and even a few he can't.

**end chapter. **


	6. The King was Pleased to Meet Him

**AN: I still haven't fully decided what to make Renard. I've got an idea and we'll see how you lot like it when I get around to explaining it (or incorporating him into whatever canon gives us). Also, yes, Harry is referring to the thing you think he is. Don't worry, it gets better when he visits eventually. **

**But that isn't for awhile. You're getting a second chapter in quick succession because I felt bad about going two weeks without anything. **

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**Chapter #6**

Harry likes the precinct. There's plenty of people to watch and see and not a single person with a different face in sight. He doesn't have to explain that he doesn't _know_ that this person has blue eyes and curly black hair when they clearly have green eyes, whiskers, and soft white fur all over their face.

He's supposed to be meeting his cousin's partner and he really does want to meet the man Nick works with. But there's this…thing, in the precinct, and he feels it like he feels the man who gave him the coin. He thinks the office in the back with the door is where it's coming from and wonders how Nick doesn't notice it. The whole building radiates with this new sensation – now that he's felt it – and he wants desperately to meet the one responsible.

"Detective Burkhardt?" Harry turns to stare because it's his cousin's name. "Who's your young friend?"

The man has dark hair and pale greenish-grey eyes and he looks perfectly human. Harry keeps staring though because he can see just beyond that – the ripple of _difference_ – and he feels his head go fuzzy the longer he stares. He won't look away though – there's a hint of pointed ears and he _needs_ to see beyond the blur.

"This is Harry, a distant cousin. I'm looking after him tonight." Nick says distantly in his ears. "Harry? Going to say hi to the Captain?"

Harry looks at his cousin quickly and sees nothing to suggest that Nick is even aware of the man. "Er, hi."

"Hello," the man smiles and he frowns because was that a flash of needle-teeth? "What do you think of your cousin then?"

"He's nice," Harry replies. He shoots another look at Nick who's looking between Harry and the man with a faint grin. He frowns again and peers up at the man who must be Nick's boss. The ever-present coin in his pocket thrums and he reaches in to brush a finger against it. He remembers the man in London and suddenly it becomes very clear who he's looking at. "Oh! Can I tell you a secret?" he leans forward and offers the thing he knows people like his friend like best.

"Certainly," the Captain lets Harry grab his hand and Harry feels the extra joints faintly even if he can't see them. "Where are we going?"

"I want to see your office," he declares. The office has a door; he won't want the humans to hear. "Okay, Nick?" He realizes perhaps he should ask his cousin before he steals his boss. Nick just looks amused and smiles.

"Just be good," the other Grimm teases. Harry rolls his eyes the way Roddy does sometimes when Barry says something he thinks is funny. He tugs on the Captain's hand and leads him to the office.

"What's this secret then?" the man asks once Harry's closed the door and inspected his surroundings for any hint of blur. There isn't any but he hadn't really thought there would be – this is his workplace, not his throne room.

"Oh!" He forgot for a moment he was going to share a secret. "Alder says to say hello," he informs the other and grins. "He gave me a coin, see?" and he can safely offer up the silver piece without worrying because they know what to do.

The Captain goes still when he sees the coin with the picture of a plant on it. He reaches out and says "May I?" politely and Harry impatiently hands him the coin so he can go look at the medals on display on a shelf.

"You're a very little Grimm to get such a coin," the Captain says.

Harry looks back, distracted for a moment by the face that peers back at him. It's the proper face now – without the blurry human one but it vanishes in a moment when the Captain notices that he's looking. "Alder likes me," he says simply. It's true – Alder likes Harry a great deal and he's always there to offer a hug and little bits of gold. Harry doesn't keep the gold because he doesn't know what he'd do with it but Alder offers it every time nevertheless. "He told me I was supposed to find you when I got here," he adds, "but I didn't know how to do that. He has more people than you, I think."

"That's fine," the Captain says. "London is older – I expected he would have more."

He shrugs because he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. The Captain rolls the coin in his fingers and it flashes in the light. He looks down as though he'd forgotten and smiles as he offers it back. "It was nice to meet you, Harry," he says gently.

"Nice to meet you too, Captain," he says and tucks his coin back in his pocket.

"Renard, if you want," the Captain says.

He nods and hums and wonders what he's supposed to do while his cousin is working. Renard must realize the problem because he sits down at his desk and smiles. "Do you want to tell me about your family?"

"Yes!" Harry loves talking about his family. He especially likes to tell people about his family when they don't think he's being silly for calling his brother and new-father a bear or his other brother a rat. "Do you know Roddy? He plays the violin."

"I think I know him," Renard says with a smile. "Remind me though – he's a Reinegen?"

Harry nods. "A rat," he agrees and launches into a really good story about the music his brother has played for him on the violin. He tells Renard about the fish song and how Roddy makes Twinkle Twinkle Little Star _exciting_ and fun even though it's a song for little kids and babies. His favourite song so far was the one about the Bumblebee.

"It goes like this –" he has to wave his hand around in zig-zags and sort of buzz a little because he's not sure how else to describe the song. It's a bumblebee flying and, really, without the bug there there's not much Harry can do to make his point on his own.

"That's a difficult song, you know," Renard comments with a smile. Harry feels the admiration and is pleased with the respect the Captain is showing his brother. "Your brother must be very talented."

"Roddy's really good" he agrees while nodding. Harry thinks about the last time he saw Roddy play and grins brightly. "Sometimes he plays for his rat, Dexter, and Dexter dances and –"

"Ready to go?" Nick asks suddenly and Harry's startled to admit that he didn't even notice his cousin standing there in the doorway. He looks at the clock but it hasn't moved much so he definitely hasn't slipped anywhere without noticing (Alder did that once and Harry was left feeling sick afterwards. He hasn't done it since though).

"Yes," he says and turns to Renard. "Goodbye Mr. Renard."

"Bye Harry," Renard says and smiles again. The flash of needle-teeth is deliberate and it makes Harry laugh and Nick look at him like he's crazy. He's not but Nick isn't very good at seeing things, Harry thinks, and so he won't ruin the surprise. People like Renard like surprises.

Nick has boxes of crayons, as it turns out, and he's pinned up enough brown craft paper to cover an entire wall in his guest room. Harry is beyond thrilled and spends his afternoon drawing Alder and his new family and Nick and even draws Renard a little before he gives up because there's only so much red crayon to be used before he needs a new colour.

"What's for supper?" he asks and flops onto the sofa beside Nick. His cousin lifts an arm and Harry curls into the available space and lets him scratch at his hair and the back of his neck. It's soothing and he feels his mind go fuzzy and sleepy and finds himself yawning.

"How about pizza?"

"Pizza's a sometimes food," Harry mumbles. Frank isn't always home for supper but he always makes sure there's real food ready for meals. Take-away is only for family movie or game nights.

"I think staying at my house means you can have pizza," Nick says and he reaches for the cordless phone. The hand leaves Harry's head and he snuggles against the other Grimm's side rather than move away.

It's strange, Harry thinks while watching Nick order pizza with extra cheese, that in only a short month he'd gone from his Aunt as his only real family to having all these people around him. People that _like_ him even. His Aunt had been family but she didn't really like him. It feels like a part of himself is still in Surrey – minding his behaviour and being careful not to look too long or hard at the ones his cousin calls "Grimm Creatures." Here in America he doesn't have to worry if he's caught looking because Frank has an excuse for humans and Harry's protected by at least a Grimm, two Jägerbar, and one Reinegen if it looks like the person will get angry.

Nick wakes him gently when the pizza comes and Harry eats two whole slices before he starts yawning again. Nick just smiles at him and gives him a pillow and a blanket and lets him curl up on the sofa. He falls asleep to the sound of his cousin humming as he does the dishes.

**end chapter. **


	7. One Day he Met a Wolf

**AN: Exams are over! I probably failed at least two classes but I don't even care because I'm going to retake some in the spring or summer term next year while I apply at some other universities in an attempt to find a better program than the one I'm in. I'm just happy that they're _done_ **

**That said, look! A wild Monroe! **

**Reviews are always appreciated~ **

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**Chapter #7**

Sometimes Roddy likes to get away from the Rabes when he can. It isn't that he doesn't like them – because he does – but there's only so long he can go surrounded by the scent of predators before he needs to get away. Harry's adorably clingy still – some sort of unspoken fear that his new family will disappear if he isn't with one of them _constantly_ – and so he begs to go along.

Roddy's not ashamed to admit he caves to the big green eyes. He dares _anyone_ to hold strong against his adopted little brother.

He figures a park is a decent enough place to go and ends up at a nicely wooded one with an excited Grimm in tow. Harry doesn't stray far like some children will, but he's curiously silent when they start along one of the paths.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Harry smiles and looks up at him, fingers curling against Roddy's palm as he slips a hand into the loose grasp. "Can we go camping?"

"What, now?"

"Not now – later. With Papa Frank and Barry and Nick." The _Papa Frank_ is a new development and the eldest Rabe has been over the moon every time Harry uses the title. It's almost unbearably sweet (ha!) but Roddy can't say much considering the ridiculous grin that curls his lips whenever he hears Harry refer to him as his brother.

"I don't see why not," he says and has to let go when Harry beams at him and races up the pathway. The Reinegen can still hear him even if he's a little difficult to spot in a grey and green sweatshirt running in the brush so he isn't overly worried. Harry, they've found, is the sort of child who runs head-first into the world, doesn't look back, and _thrives_.

He's listening to a performance of the rather tricky ciaccona of Bach's Partita in D minor since he needs to learn it for a competition a few months from now on his iPod when he notices that Harry hasn't come wandering back. He looks around – secure in the knowledge that the boy won't be far away – and falters.

Harry isn't there.

"Harry?" he sincerely hopes he hasn't lost him. He trusts the Jägerbar well enough, but he doesn't trust them if he's lost the youngest of their rag-tag clan. "Harry!"

Then he hears it: just on the edge of his hearing range (considerably better than a human's) is the sound of Harry's laughing and talking to someone. The voice he hears is much deeper and the wind is blowing his way and all he smells is male. He's tearing down the path calling for his brother before he even notices.

What he sees when he finally catches a flash of black hair is Harry staring intently at a very wary Monroe in a jogging suit who's pressed up against a tree and staring back at the little boy with a wide-eyed expression. His real face is still hidden but Roddy knows that doesn't matter – Harry still sees the wolf.

"Roddy!" Harry turns at the sound of footsteps and all the Reinegen can do is stop dead because that's the Grimm looking at him – not the little boy – and Harry isn't even aware that he's doing it. _As usual_. "Look who I met!"

"Roddy?" Monroe looks between them and, if at all possible, looks even more confused. "What are you doing with a baby Grimm?"

Harry scowls as he always does at the title. "I'm _Harry_," he says and folds his tiny arms grouchily. The little Grimm is still projecting predator and it's absolutely ridiculous to be frightened of him when he's sulking like that but Roddy can't _help_ it. He's the bottom of the food chain and the apex predator for their kind is standing _right there_.

"Right, Harry, sorry," Monroe says. The Blutbad steps closer and sniffs discreetly. Harry's interest is immediately caught and he turns back and forgets his ire. Then Monroe says, in a soft aside over the boy's head, "Care to explain?"

"Thought you knew; you hang around the older one all the time." Roddy isn't going to apologize. Nothing anyone says can make him apologize for this. Harry is entirely Frank's fault and _he_ can take the blame. "Frank found him in England – adopted him from his Fury aunt. Nick was watching him just last week."

"You're my cousin's friend?" the boy interrupts loudly. He claps a little and beams – actually beams, Roddy's sure that he's seeing light there – at Monroe. "Brilliant! Can you change so normal people can see? Papa Frank can turn into a bear but he doesn't like to – he won't let Barry either and Roddy's boring sometimes. Sorry," he adds, looking contrite, to the Reinegen.

"Uh…" if it were possible to feel bad for a predator that _doesn't_ have big green eyes and the most adorable accent, Roddy would feel bad for Monroe. Of course, it isn't and he doesn't, but the sentiment is there. "I don't think that's such a good idea…"

"Like my Aunt?"

"What?"

"My Aunt," the littlest Grimm repeats patiently. "She said she could have wings but it wasn't a good idea."

"Yes, like your Aunt then," Monroe repeats with a heavy dose of relief. "Sorry, how does he know Nick?"

Roddy is just relieved that for once he has the one-up on a predator. Normally they barge in and start talking and he has to listen because – hello, predator-prey relationship, how are you this evening? – they're _predators_ and that's what he does. He cowers and hopes they don't notice even if he does occasionally find it in himself to slip and snap back. He reaches out and grabs Harry's hand and the little boy accepts it with the ease of all children of the age where they can't figure out why roads are dangerous beyond some vague idea that cars are big.

"Grimm," Roddy reminds the Blutbad. "They're all related – he's taken to calling yours his cousin."

"Distant cousin," Harry agrees and repeats the term they've tried to teach him and he sometimes even remembers. He tugs on Roddy's hand. "Can we go now? I'm bored."

"Just a minute," he promises and Harry looks murderously impatient. "Monroe plays the cello, you know."

The new information makes the little Grimm light up. Harry loves music – all kinds, too – and especially likes music on string instruments (though Roddy's pretty sure that's just because of him and not out of any real interest). He'd feel bad about siccing the boy on Monroe if he weren't doubly sure that Monroe needs to learn how to relax some around both his own Grimm and other non-humans in general. "Can I hear? Please sir, can I?" Harry directs the last to the Blutbad himself and pulls out his biggest, greenest, most adorable puppy eyes.

Monroe, predictably, caves immediately. "I…I guess?" Roddy grins and lets go of Harry's hand so that the boy can grab Monroe's and pull. "Right _now_?"

"Oh right," Harry says and turns to smile beatifically at the Reinegen. "Roddyyyy–" he drags out the last syllable and it's not so much a whine as it is a plea.

"You have to ask Monroe first," he says and can't stop the hysterical giggle from bursting forth. The sheer _joy_ he gets from forcing predators into uncomfortable positions will _never_ get old.

"Can we go to your house? Can you play for me? Please? I've never heard a cello for real before!"

Which is how they find themselves in Monroe's living room, Harry curled in Roddy's lap and eyes fixed on a very awkward Monroe carefully arranging his instrument and looking all the world like he has absolutely no clue how any of this came about.

Even in a Blutbad's territory, the Reinegen can't find it in himself to call this anything but one of the best days _ever_.

**end chapter.**


	8. He Found a Snake Another Day

**AN: Short update today, sorry. I've been stuck in a bit of a rut and distracted by work on my new Supernatural crossover. The new work was further distracted by the Avengers. Tony and Steve were clearly made for each other. Then there's the whole Coulson, Natasha, Clint threesome and we all know Bruce totally belongs with Pepper. Loki gets Darcy and Jane gets Thor and everyone is happy.  
**

**Well, in my world that's how it goes. Kudos to other authors who follow this thinking for me; you guys are awesome and distracting and I love you for it.  
**

**Review!  
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**Chapter #8**

He doesn't often have other lawyers over to his house – he prefers to remain professional and inviting them into his home seems an overdramatic gesture his offices can handle better anyway – but Harry is on one of his off days from school and has caught a bit of a cold besides so Frank doesn't have much of a choice.

"You're going to stay in the yard, right?" He has to be sure because Mason Snyder is a Lausenschlange and, while he generally channels his more violent tendencies into his very successful career and maintaining whichever expensive car he currently owns, Frank isn't willing to leave him around his adoptive son. Especially a young Grimm who doesn't know better when to keep quiet about Wesen he sees.

"Y-eeees," Harry drags it out and sniffles. He's wearing a warm sweater, jacket, and hat and looks impatient to try out the playground installed just the other day. It's not like his cold will get worse for the fresh air and Frank doesn't mind shamelessly keeping him occupied with new toys if it means he'll be away from Snyder. "Can I go now?"

"Just don't try to open the gate," he warns and Harry beams before darting off.

Snyder arrives not long after – his bright red Camaro looks strange and flashy amongst the sleek black of the Rabes' cars and Frank stifles the offense to his rather inconveniently territorial instincts to grasp Snyder's hand and shake firmly. The Lausenschlange grins and unbuttons his jacket before he settles down on the offered seat in Frank's office.

"Drink?" he asks and isn't worried when Snyder refuses. To be honest, he tends to look more favourably on those who refuse the drink than those who accept it. He's also very sure that Snyder knows he doesn't drink and that's why he declined. Working with lawyers is always so tedious.

They go over the case. Snyder is vicious in his defense of his client and Frank has successfully defended this particular company for years so they skip most of the theatrics and get straight to business. Snyder will settle for this but not without a fight and Frank can't have news get out and they certainly won't agree to that sum. It's more haggling than negotiation but eventually they get their proposals lined up (along with the actual agreement they'll finalize after their clients have felt they've fought long enough).

Snyder grins. "I'll take that drink now, if you don't mind," he drawls.

"Of course, let me get that," Frank agrees graciously. He's content with the work they've done today and figures he can check in on Harry while he's up and out of his office.

He sees Harry through the door, kneeling and poking at something in the grass (bug, probably), and smiles gently. Then he gets the drink and returns to Snyder. They're just packing away papers when there's a sound of a door opening. He ignores the sound because he's doubtful that Harry will come over.

Which was his mistake, of course. Harry isn't known for shying away from _anything_ and this is no exception.

"Papa Frank, this snake can talk! Look!" he's carefully holding a massive brown snake in his thin arms and his eyes are bright as he turns his head to peer at the twining mass and hiss at it as though he's actually talking.

"Harry," the smell of venom is bad enough but that snake is wound about the little Grimm's throat in a manner offensive in every possible way Frank can imagine. "Put it down. **Now**."

"Why?"

"Harry!" He yells it sharply enough that even Snyder goes still.

Harry hisses again – eyes shining and glossy – and Frank is about ready to rip that snake away from his boy and deal with the tears later when Snyder hisses behind him and Harry turns his eyes to the other Wesen and positively beams. He hisses again and it sounds less like hissing now and more like language that just so happens to be comprised of hissing. Snyder even continues to _respond_. It continues for a long moment to a dumbfounded Frank while the snake in the Grimm's arms just turns its head this way and that as though _listening_ to the apparent conversation.

Harry is grinning widely and all signs of tears are gone and the snake in his arms is just still and silent and draped in his arms lazily with nary a hint of discomfort about it – it looks as though its enjoying being out of the rain, if Frank is honest with himself. "Papa Frank, you have neat friends," Harry says cheerfully. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Snyder. I'm going to go play with," he hisses again, "now."

Never let it be said that anything fazes toddlers. Harry's gone from the room and Frank knows his gait well enough now that he can track the little one's progress to his bedroom on the main floor across from Barry's from sound alone. He manages to gather his wits about him enough that the look he gives Snyder is appropriately expectant and dangerous enough that the other Wesen politely avoids making direct eye contact.

"I'd heard you had fostered a Reneigen, of course; the Mauzhertz who lives in my building is all flustered over it," Snyder says. "But I had no idea you'd found a Schlangenbeschwörer let alone _adopted_ it."

"In English," Frank says. He can usually recognize Wesen terms so it has to be one the Grimms haven't found or never bothered to learn – a sort of Lausenschlange exclusive bit of vocabulary.

"Snake-charmer," Snyder grins just a touch but still avoids the direct eye contact. His eyes slip to some point on Frank's forehead which works well enough to maintain the illusion of it. "Not referring to the ones with the flutes either. They're very rare, but sometimes people are born with the ability to speak to snakes as easily as they can converse in their natural language. Of course, snake language is just a really simplified version of the old-tongue – which I've made a point of knowing and that your boy was speaking a moment ago – but Schlangenbeschwörer can sort of…impart that instinctive knowledge to the snakes they talk with."

"They make the snakes smarter," Frank hazards warily.

Snyder finally meets his eyes again and there's a sort of exasperated and wary cast to his human façade. "Not as such. The snake just sort of goes from…vaguely intelligible hissing to hissing with actual and obvious meaning. The story goes that the longer they stick around and the more powerful the Schlangenbeschwörer, the better they get until they can hold real conversations and even gain a measure of intelligence."

"He's a Grimm."

"Well _that_ is interesting," Snyder's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he glances over his shoulder. "I was under the impression that it wasn't possible to be both. Schlangenbeschwörer are more like us than they are like humans or Grimms."

"Papa Frank?" Harry's voice carries through the halls. "Do we have food for snakes?"

Frank doesn't even know what snakes eat. Small children with green eyes and glasses, he can only assume. He's only got one of those and he isn't inclined to feeding him to a snake. Rodents then – not Dexter or Harry will cry – and he's sure Roddy isn't going to volunteer to help with the slaughter of his distant cousins. "We'll have to go to the pet store," he calls back.

Harry doesn't talk after that so he must be happy, whatever he's doing. Snyder is looking entirely too curious for his own good so he lets his mask slip away so that his true face – all fur and dark eyes and dangerous – is staring down at the other Wesen.

Snyder may be a dangerous sort of Wesen, but he's not stupid enough to think he's danger enough to take on a Jägerbar protecting its young. He doesn't make eye contact and very politely excuses himself. Frank escorts him from the property before he returns to deal with Harry and that viper he's got curled up beside him under one of his desk lamps.

The big eyes are what do it. "Please, can I keep him?"

Damn you, Frank. Damn you, for falling for it. He sighs and Harry is beaming and hugging him and there's a soft press of lips to his cheek that is entirely unexpected but not at all unwelcome. Harry hisses at the snake which coils into a tighter ball and hisses but doesn't sound at all threatening. Well, Roddy won't be happy and neither will Barry but he's going to let Harry deal with them.

But not until they've gone and purchased a proper home for this new pet of Harry's. He is so whipped he can't even believe it sometimes.

**end chapter.**


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